


Eros and Ares

by apeirophobia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Mythology - Freeform, Other, Poetry, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:25:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apeirophobia/pseuds/apeirophobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>legislation, words for better worlds, and lines drawn on the map in blood</p><p>liege men don’t die quietly in their beds, and heros don’t die at all</p><p>closed eyes beneath the sheet, copper lips and buried shame</p><p>you were never meant for modern ideals, </p><p>you were meant for war</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eros and Ares

they said, who would you kill for? where would you draw the line?

it’s simple really, one love for all your life

(throw away rose petals, first kisses, and gentle smiles)

trade it for promises, armor and teeth

throw away innocence. the world is waiting.

 

his words, his world, _his_

stripping off your body weight in armor, tan skin

_him_ , more than a man, everything you ever wanted

challenging the very gods above you, temptation and drive

everything you ever wanted to be, feared, respected, _great_

 

savior is just another name for tyrant, dictator is just a mortal word for god

she grips her side tightly, crimson wet between her fingers

different desert, different campaign, same fire behind his eyes

she gasps back pain and memory,

and says, _save us now_

 

faith that can’t be taught, trust that can’t be broken

passion in formation, boots on freshly conquered earth, 

the sound of dignity and honor, rings all the clearer for the victor

tastes of leather and time, destiny and religion on the battle field

true immortality

 

vanity and pride span the ages, like ambition and tragedy,

as hunger becomes synonymous with hamartia

mortality is bending to a higher power’s will; flaw, flawed, _human_

hubris is believing it could end differently, this time

and betrayal cuts deeper than Sophoclean wit

 

legislation, words for better worlds, and lines drawn on the map in blood

liege men don’t die quietly in their beds, and heros don’t die at all

closed eyes beneath the sheet, copper lips and buried shame

you were never meant for modern ideals, 

you were meant for war

 

too old for this world and too bright for the next one,

nothing fits like sharp bones under calloused hands

_real_ , tangible and so very fleeting (this has never happened before)

nothing lasting like a whisper, words on your lips

breathe the names of men long dead

 

run your fingers through bed sheets grown cold and you think, love?

what is it? who are you? gaping wounds and vulnerabilities

displayed to the world in a parody of resilience

the cast of a gaze before it turns down in submission

the chatter of soldiers and the wind whipping through the tents before it all burns down

 

knees in the dirt, head thrown back, and tears on his face

as a million possibilities become one (again)

fear is just an alter you never sacrificed on

your heart stutters out _aut viam inveniam aut faciam_

Hope stays in the box and humanity marches on

 

life is a game played to win, scars raised on pale skin

fault lines under his hands: lust, _possession_ , and three thousand years

your soul is a maze of passion, self-contempt, and your father’s words

selfless devotion scalds the tongue under artificial light

this isn’t affection, this is _benediction_ , and it tastes like home

**Author's Note:**

> This poem is about mythology, of course, but it's even more-so about the intertwined relationship between mortals and immortals, and how those who truly aspire for greatness (Alexander the Great, Caesar, Spartacus) end up traversing the realms.


End file.
